Can't Catch a Break
by stratusfish
Summary: 'Look how far you've gone, Pepper.' She sarcastically primed herself, cynically reprimanding everything she'd ever done to lead up to this moment, staring into fate lined on a shelf. 'You're killing Tony Stark's baby.'
1. Airplanes

_Idk. I'm inspired. I'm always inspired by the most random things. Like Tony Stark's perfect hair. Don't own it, blah blah blah really wish I did blah blah blah_

_-x-_

_can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like _

_shooting stars?_

_I could really use a wish right now…_

_-x-_

_I feel like the lowest scum. _

Pepper Pots wavered almost unnecessarily in the third aisle of a local pharmacy down in the less accommodating parts of Los Angeles. Stark Industries was twenty blocks away, about a three-minute trip on the highway—depending on the speed of traffic—and two and a half hours by walking at the snail-like pace she had adopted in her five inch pumps which did nothing on the rocky, uneven sidewalk.

Suffice to say, she walked.

Not that Walgreens was any sort of exotic destination. In fact, there was one not even two blocks down from the sprawling tinted-window skyscraper with Tony's surname the crowned jewel tapered onto the top of it. She probably should have taken the lesser hike, but simply couldn't bring her flaming face to enter through the sliding doors she was so acutely intimate with. Tony had asked her to go there for a variety of reasons, usual mundane, useless things like whatever candy he was craving or just for his amusement, but she had gone enough times to realize that a handful of Stark employees—many with mouths larger than their heads—loitered there in their lunch hours.

And she would _not _want to be caught with them.

Good god, if Melissa Write from accounting saw her…

Her face burnt at the thought.

_Look how far you've gone, Pepper. _She sarcastically primed herself, cynically reprimanding everything she'd ever done. _You're killing Tony Stark's baby. _

She tried not to think of it as she grabbed the most expensive and "One-hundred percent guaranteed" Plan B, as she walked hurriedly to the checking counter, trying to keep her pace as brisk as possible.

* * *

Pepper tried to cross-examine her life to how it had sunk so far.

It was a quick combination of things she supposed, a correlation of unrelated events, or what she thought were unrelated events, that were tied to ridiculously to each other that happened to have stumbled upon the same evening.

It was Rhodey's birthday yesterday.

That wasn't anything new, it happened on the same day everyday.

However, Tony, being Rhodey's self-proclaimed best friend as well as the man-slut partying fool he was, had gone against the Colonel's pleads for a small get together of close friends for a end of summer cook-out turned celebrity hot spot out of his Malibu mansion. This combined along with;

a) Happy's uncanny technique to connive Pepper into anything, including ludicrous drinking games,

b) the incessant ability Tony has to stay trashed for two weeks straight,

c) those delectable Sour Apple Martinis that Pepper may/may not have indulged in earlier that evening when she saw the bartender concocting one of those devilish little things,

d) her outlandish schedule that usually flipped backwards in an attempt to fit _Tony's _schedule gave her little time for herself, and for that matter, any time to head over to the doctors and get another prescription for birth control,

And the fact that Tony Stark was _sex on legs_ did nothing but aid the subsequent chain of events that carried on later that night.

Pepper had woken up that morning, regrettably, the same way she assumed many of Tony's night guests usually did. Jarvis' impressive opening speech, the pulling of the curtains, reading the time and temperature in that low, drowning voice of his, the perfect surf side cliff and sparkling infinity pool just below the balcony, and there's the buxom sun-tanned blonde who gets up with a mysterious gasp, sheets trailing down her smooth curves as she walks in wonder to the stainless windows and presses manicured hands to their warmed surface. The heroine then turns around to the empty, but not as extravagant as she thought bed, hunts around for clothes, and dons one of Tony's many button downs as she peruses through the wonder-like house of machine machinations and waterfalls. This is usually Pepper's cue to take out the garbage.

Except today, Pepper was the garbage.

She could have hurled if it wasn't for the fact that Tony was still next to her, groaning at the hangover he would soon be facing.

Aside from the deep, revolting horror sinking into her stomach and the quiet drone of that familiar mechanic voice, there wasn't much else she could do aside from gather her clothes off of the floor.

"The surf is mediocre, may I suggest a walk down towards the beach? The water temperature has reached a slight rise over seventy-one degrees—

"Jarvis." She hissed. "Mute."

The house AI became silent as she stalked around the room, snapping her fingers for the windows to reverse themselves to darkness.

She stood there, in Tony's white undershirt that still smelled like his shampoo, squinting into the dim light for the sparkle of her heels, probably looking particularly stupid. This wasn't what she had imagined. Sure, it was rather hard not to fantasize about her multi-billionaire, orgasmic boss, but he was _Tony_, and Tony was someone she knew, not just a face on a magazine. He was annoying, he had terrible taste in music, he couldn't keep himself alive without her to baby him, and his list of defects probably ascended all the data space in his house.

The problem was, he was also exceedingly handsome, a charming, witty and charismatic born leader as well as a genius engineer who, sadly, had a way with women. Including her. (This was not a fact she was entirely proud of) And if she really was to say it aloud, his astounding list of defects probably matched his many perfections hand to hand, and, in reality, he probably wasn't as horrid a human being as she gave him credit for. He _did_ have some sort of moral astoundment, as he _did _have a relevation on Stark Industries' questionable moralities, and he _did _create a high-tech metal suit of armor to not only save himself but to save his entire country. Certainly that counted for something?

Pepper watched the boneless heap strewn in taupe colored sheets, a messy sprawl of muscles and lean tendons as the owner of the body made loud snores that could shake the entire house. The sign that he was even on his back probably meant that he was waking up soon.

She dropped to her knees and narrowed her bright eyes into the darkness below Tony's bed. Ah, there was one of them.

Retrieving the Steve Madden stiletto, she grabbed the pearl necklace off of his bedside table and silently tiptoed to the other side of his bed.

He was asleep, but judging from his incoherent mumbling from underneath the pillow he had pulled over his head, was probably pulling himself out of it. Or rather, the hangover that was two weeks in coming was dragging him from the recesses of alcohol induced sleep and was rearing its ugly head with vengeance. She may have held some sympathy for him on another occasion, but she was more concerned with the fact that she wanted to be _out _of here by the time those bleary, blood-shot eyes found her face instead of the usual faceless, nameless Victoria Secret model.

She was three steps out the door when she heard his sleepy, almost indecipherable voice. "…Pepper?"

The redhead stilled, her reflection caught in the glass of the hallways, a thin posture, swathed taupe fabric and the bright tangerine of her hair.

But she continued on, pace renewed.

"Happy?" She called, as she balanced her shoes in one hand along with her dress, finding her car parked still on the rim of the circle in front of Tony's mansion. Her hair, once a perfection of poppy-colored curls poised on the top of her head was now a mess of hairspray jumbled into a sloppy bun above her left ear, ends escaping down the nape of her neck and one shoulder pressing her Blackberry to her ear.

"Yes, I'm leaving right now." She stopped her brisk, uneven pace as she dropped her dress and shoes into the passenger seat of her Audi (or rather, Tony's, as he wouldn't let her drive her own car as it was an "unsafe piece of shit") "No… I uh, stayed over to clean up the mess."

"You know how Tony is." She began again, determined to make her alibi more like an actual excuse. "He passed out once everyone left and his house was an utter disaster."

Pepper started her car up, the pedal feeling cold against her bare feet, Tony's shirt a surprisingly comfortable makeshift dress. "I—well now I suppose that really isn't in the job description, is it?" She smiled uncomfortably as she pulled out of the circle. It felt terrible to lie to Happy.

"Yes, there's a board meeting at two, make sure to be at Mister Stark's house an hour earlier, because I'm certain we'll have to round up his ass to get out of—

Pepper's eyes widened; her foot floored the brakes.

The A4 came to a screeching, killed-the-brakes halt as her face lost all its color and she almost dropped her phone.

"_Pepper? Are you alright?" _Happy's voice came from somewhere near her thigh, where her phone had nearly crashed into the aggravating corner between the cup holders and her seat.

She picked it up shakily. "Yes…I'm fine."

Her clock read eleven forty-eight. But that wasn't the worst of it.

"Actually, Happy, could you take care of Mister Stark yourself? I just realized I have some…pressing matters to attend to."

-x-

-x-

_its starting at one point and kind of, recapping I guess. Sorry if its confusing! Tell me what you think :D everyone always has cute little stories about the little Starks running around, but I've yet to see one about their creation. Its always interesting to see the you know, dramatic part I guess (; _

_Anyway, tell me what you think! _


	2. Boston

_I'm usually fond of longer chapters. Thanks for all the feedback! Yeah, there's a couple inconsistencies. Pretty much, Pepper's immediate reaction to the wonderful morning after is to rush out and by some good ol' plan b, and this chapters takes up right where the last one left off. _

_-x-_

_essential yet appealed_

_you carry all your thoughts across an open field,_

_where flowers gaze at you_

_-x-_

_boston. augustana. _

Tony awoke to an intense feeling of loneliness. Usually, when he stepped into the marble work of art that was his bathroom, he had half a second to admire his lean—albeit scarred—body in the mirror, and he usually did so with as much bravado as was expected of Tony Stark, but today he couldn't find the strength to do much more then glower at his reflection.

Today was going to be a bad day.

It hadn't helped to wake up to a relentless pulsing behind his ears, a dull beat that followed his heartbeat as he leaned woodenly against the hot spray of water, mist clouding above him and fogging the mirrors. He knew it was going to happen, but it didn't help anything knowing how much his hangover was going to suck—rather, is _sucking_.

The worst of it was the blurry images of a stroke of daisy orange watercolor, strands tinged golden with the fading light as his windows turned back into darkness, the smooth contours of legs as they padded silently down his marble flooring, disappearing into the early morning crisp.

Pepper was gone.

He was sure it was Pepper, even though he really couldn't remember anything aside from Rhodey's dismayed, but equally amused face at the wreck the party had turned into. The guy was so sure he wanted one of those small, boring little get-togethers, but inwardly, Rhodey loved to party just as much as he did. It was just a matter of getting him to even remotely suggest it that was the problem.

Anyway, the point was, he had tumbled into bed, clawing at the clothes of some beautiful work of sprayed freckles and dancing hands, a lily neck stretched with curls of orange ringing around it, the smell of lemons on his pillow.

Pepper…

Tony shut off the shower abruptly, stepping out of the stall and into the misted bathroom. The arc reactor glowed dimly through the fog. On the opposite side of the stall was a long panel of one-sided glass, and the CEO of Stark Industries indulged himself in watching the tumult of waves crash into the white-hot sand, wondering where she could have gone.

"Jarvis." He called to the air.

"Yes, sir?"

He toweled off his hair, fighting ruthlessly with himself to _not _get to the conclusion that yes, he had reached a new low, as he really had to have a British voice tell him what he already knew. "Where was Miss Potts this morning?"

A pause. "Well, sir, I believe she was four inches away from you until approximately an hour ago, to which she exited the complex."

"And do you know where she is now?"

"I am afraid not sir. However, I would estimate that the board meeting scheduled for this afternoon would be her highest priority."

"Highest priority, huh?" He mumbled to himself, as he slipped on jeans and a dark tee shirt he found off his floor, scrubbing dark hair with one hand, dropping his towel as he exited the bathroom.

He looked at himself in the mirror—the very definition of a hangover, a blue pattern thrumming light squares in a vague circle-like pattern through his shirt.

There was nothing better that he'd like to do than iron out some of the tweaks to his suit, perhaps candy it up with a couple new gadgets and install the upgraded user interface he had planned out, but he figured that perhaps doing the right thing was more important than doing what he wanted. And anyway, he couldn't let this mess with Pepper go on too long. Whatever they were having—did have, technically, as he highly doubted he'd get a repeat performance of what he assumed was nothing short of the most perfect sexual endeavor that he'd never get to remember—wasn't going to last very long, and let's face it, he couldn't go more than a week without her anyway.

And even that was stretching things a bit.

* * *

Pepper arrived late for the meeting.

That was nothing new, she'd done it a couple times in the last few months. Once when Tony had come back from another mission, suit broken and a real wreck of muscles that made his arms frightening her to pieces. Another time when she had slept in, because the night prior she had taken her precious hours to rewrite Tony's speech, to which he didn't even use as he threw his alibi cards out the window and proudly announced that he was Ironman—_for the hell of it. _no less.

She, sadly, as a recurring theme in her life, hadn't the time for herself, and hadn't visited the drug store like she had promised herself she would. Maybe she was dreading the results. Maybe she was just avoiding the issue altogether. She knew she had to get herself tested at some point.

Maybe she didn't want to.

One hand was balancing Starbucks, lord knows she needed her double shot no whip skim milk ninety-degree grande injection of coffee.

The other held her briefcase filled with layouts for the new technological mumbo jumbo shit she knew nothing about but would once again have to half-ass the entire presentation because the real genius who actually knew what the hell all this was about was currently jamming out to AC DC under the belly of an old muscle car.

She was prepared for another three hours of her messing her way through power points as she opened the door, only to hear someone perfecting it for her.

Tony had donned an Armani suit for the occasion, pressed to his lean body and would you look at that, it looked like he showered today, hair slicked back and an impressive usage of his hands had the board members looking back rather impressed.

"The Iron Key D-200 will make computers absolutely irrelevant. It's capacities range from sixteen GB in the S-200 model to thirty-two hundred in the D-200, and using hardware encryption makes hacking into its systems virtually useless. Now, I've got one right here—

As she slowly made her way to an open chair, a frayed, bewildered look on her face, Tony held up a USB port about the size of her finger, its scratched surface glinting in the light.

"But I suppose that really doesn't allow any of us to fully understand its capabilities…" He trailed off, and she tried not to look up as his voice dwindled closer to her, instead looking at her coffee cup fascinatingly, opening the lid to stare down into its milky depths.

And suddenly, she found herself blinking out its hot contents as almost half of it splashed onto her and the surrounding board members.

Tony was standing in front of her impassively, that curious look on his face.

"And as you can see," With that, he retrieved the coffee-logged metal square out of her coffee, and paraded down to the computer, where he proceeded to plug it in. The screen lit up as if nothing had ever happened, a verification and log in segment opening onto the screen. "It's almost indestructible."

"Well that's a rather entertaining presentation Mr. Stark, but certainly this device has its weaknesses."

"Ah, well, I suppose that is true." He looked up then. "Miss Potts?"

She bolted upright, face flaming, as she opened her briefcase and retrieved a USB of her own. "Yes of course." She added almost inaudibly, as she stood and walked to the front of the room to begin her part of the presentation.

While she chattered on about the limitations of Stark Industries latest military advancement, Tony took the seat across from her, looking quite unlike the stuffy, unpleasant men with implacable frowns etched onto their faces. He had this contemplative look on his face, eyes never leaving hers, even as she quickly glanced at him only to stare determinedly into the wall.

She supposed Tony would be a lot less endearing if he had kept his usual, ridiculous flirting that he usually teased her with, the kind that almost bordered sexual harassment. Instead, their relationship had reached a sort of undertone of sharp side-glances full of undeciphered emotion, the slightest brush of hands before a quick parting. Eyes full of heat as they burned into her. Dangerous things.

By the end of the allotted three hours she supposed the two of them had successfully flabbergasted the board members, as well as impressed them. It may have something to do with the fact that Tony actually _showed up_, and less to do with the usual charisma and eccentric qualities he carried himself and his presentations with. Pepper wondered why he didn't do these things more often, as they really were his inventions and no one, not even her, could do them justice when presenting them to the board. And truth be told, he seemed to enjoy it on some level.

Any other day she would have hovered by the doorway inconspicuously, waiting for him to exit so they could walk together towards the elevator, genuinely praising him for showing up this time.

Instead, she hurried packed her bags and headed for the door before he could close his laptop.

Sadly, the gesture was futile.

"Hey whoa, whoa, Potts. Hold up a moment."

She stilled, eyes not moving from their unwavering spot burning into the far wall, just across the corridor, which lead to the elevator, which lead to freedom…

Instead, she straightened her back and turned her head to meet his gaze, hair following in a loose movement of primed curls.

"Yeah?"

She tried to sound casual, really.

"Listen," He scratched the back of his head. "I don't really know what you want from me…"

Pepper immediately scowled, before turning away, looking like she was ready to bolt. Okay, bad way to start Stark, try again.

"I mean—no, that's not what I meant…" He had a flustered, almost upset look on his face, and she had to feel sympathy watching him flounder about. "I mean, I don't know what you want Pepper, I don't want you to rush you or anything like that y'know? I mean, if you just want to forget about all this, that's totally cool—

"Okay." She bit out, maybe it was the coffee, maybe it was the lack of food in her digestion track that was probably still dousing the remnants of last night's binging, or maybe it was the simple fact that this whole god damn conversation was making her nauseous, but she really, really, wanted to throw up right now.

"Okay?" His eyebrows rose in surprise. "You're okay with that."

"Wha—" Her eyes closed briefly, the only sign of pain. "No, that's no what I meant. Tony, I think what's more important is our relationship in work, it's not something I'd really like to jeopardize…"

"Oh, is that what this is about?" He tilted his head. "It doesn't have to if we don't want it to, Pepper. We can just be how we always are, but I dunno, a little more, I guess. It's whatever you want to do, it's all up to you."

Suddenly, she felt entirely sick.

Pepper was aware that symptoms of morning sickness can arrive as early as the next day, as well as she was aware that Tony suddenly inclined to ramping up their relationship to an entirely new level so abruptly was probably just as dizzying as her no doubt rising hormones.

"Tony, I have a very serious question." She held herself steady with a discreet hand on the plush leather seat behind her. He stilled at the words, probably well aware that their entailment was nothing he'd like.

She continued anyway.

"Have you ever thought of, I dunno, settling down, starting a family, that kind of thing?"

Ah, so this is what it was all about.

Tony understood. Pepper was a woman. She may kick his foot with the back of her heel like a she-banshee, and sometimes when she yelled at him from above the garage she sounded more part hyena slash Godzilla then feminine, but she was still a girl. She still had those dreams of a perfect house in a perfect neighborhood, where everyone took their kids to the local diner to harass the young hostesses and everyone knew everyone and yes, my husbands a lawyer, what about yours? Oh, my husband makes mass weapons that are capable of blowing up this whole perfect little neighborhood! Gosh, that's so delightful! And she'd want to marry the guy with the mother who lives on a ranch in Wisconsin, the state of _cheese_, and have a brood of well-behaved kids and—

Well, he could go on, but pretty much everything that wasn't him and his outlandish one-man lifestyle.

He supposed he really should have seen that coming, maybe even cleaned up his act.

He was the resident playboy and woman-user, and up until this point, had prided himself with that notion.

"I get it," He sighed. "I get it."

She blinked curiously, almost surprisingly. "You do?"

He shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. You want what every girl wants, the family, the house, the nice yard with the yellow slide and the yappy annoying dog. I get it, the kind of stuff I couldn't get you."

Her surprise turned into something else, a twist in her brows that made his stomach drop, as if his words were once again not taking the intended effect. Or maybe that was the part that made it hurt—they were. This was ending. This beautiful mistake was ending.

She looked as if she was about to say something, what he'd never know, is that the words were_ "Tony god dammit, I want you to say that you'll give me all that" _and not, _"Tony you fool I can't stand you, why would you expect this to work anyway?" _as he had earlier expected.

Instead of either of those, she only shook her head with a capricious smile, a warped version of the chimerical beauty it had always been, and that perfect quirk of rose lips below the dusty freckles that lined those bright delphinium eyes.

And all she said,

"Okay, Tony."

And Pepper decided; there was no more procrastinating. She would walk down to the pharmacy, and settle this once and for all.

-x-

-x-

"Mister Stark?" The following day, an empty voice called through the equally empty hallways.

The man in question had his head careened under his latest project. Once he installed the spearhead device into the bottom of his desk—as he already had six others set up around his garage—he'd be able to turn the entire workspace into a virtual computer, instead of the tables he had set up for his virtual computerization.

He got up from underneath his desk, making no move to answer the faintly feminine voice coming from upstairs. Jarvis must have let her in.

And the worst part was, it wasn't Pepper.

He opted to watch in wonder, spreading his hands out as small, spindle like webs retracted from the air, meeting his fingertips and bending in perfect symmetry as they recorded the angles of his splayed fingers, rather than answer the woman who was invading his private property.

"Mister Stark!" Came the incessant voice once more. "Mister Stark?"

Heels clattered down his stairs. Lopsided, as if the woman in question was walking daintily side ways, not the perfect gait of the woman who knew precisely how to strut down the stairs with those unknowing swinging hips and that perfect swishing pony tail.

A blonde with brown eyes—not those ocean blue like Pepper—and a perky nose was fidgeting down the stairs. Not really much a walk, more like a waddle sideways. When she got to the bottom of the floor she smoothed out her pencil skirt and knocked politely on the glass.

He pointedly ignored her and continued to work, and if possible, pushing his head even more under the desk.

"Mister Stark!" She yelled then, her pitched voice coming out more like a squeak through Black Sabbath.

Finally, after no small amount of time, she pounded the door hard enough for the glass to shake marginally, and Tony decided that she really wasn't going anywhere, and if this was about his taxes, she could leave and talk to his god damn lawyers, because he really just _hadn't the time_.

"Excuse me, miss…" He trailed off, taking a pointed look at her well shaped breasts for a nametag. Ah. "Walker. Can I help you?"

"Yes, you may." She sniffed. "You've got a conference with Lockheed Martin this afternoon—

"And who are you, again?" He scratched his chin. "Because I'm fairly sure that I didn't hire you, and this house happens to be available only to those with the highest clearance in Stark Industries, and last I remember, you weren't one of those people."

She flushed red, a terrible, wide-eyed look of embarrassment on her face as she floundered. "Well excuse _me,_ sir, but I happen to have clearance for this." She tapped the clipboard in her hands expectantly with her pen. "I'm you're new secretary."

-x-

-x-

_Hey, they're short, but they come out pretty quick. Any thoughts? Revelations? Wonderful pregnancy related things that I wouldn't know about seeing as though I've never been pregnant that are pretty essential to know about? _


	3. Unwell

_Sorry this took so long! _

-x-

_hold on, feeling like I'm heading for a _

_break down_

_and I don't know why_

-x-

unwell. matchbox twenty

Pepper Potts stared unwaveringly at the small box on her bathroom counter. The box glared back. The words "Plan B" stayed stationary, even as her vision blurred from such intense staring. The box remained unopened.

Pepper's usually impassively arched brows—the kind that were sharp and angled perfectly to her face, arced enough to create an acceptably flat look that could stop Tony Stark in his trouble-making tracks—were currently knitted in pain as she leaned against the sink of her bathroom, looking at her dull reflection.

Her hair, which like her brows was always in an impartial clasp of curls or some other form of cold, distant relations that pinned them to the top of her head in a way that made her boss wonder just how wild and untamed she'd look with the fiery red of her hair falling on her face in restless tumbles, was instead falling out of its bun on the side of her head, limp and useless.

Pepper could hardly recognize the thin form in front of her, a lifeless still art of white washed paint in a white washed shirt, the only spray of color the brown freckles that dotted her nose.

She should have known herself better.

Virginia Potts was the girl in high school who had lived more then the small town that she had been born into. Wild hair, and the restless eyes of a kid of the back seat of a van the child of the sixties. She grew up in the same dull green tie-dye shirt from one of those side street marts and frayed shorts, summer sun beating her weather-weary shoulders into the freckles they were now, the Arizona heat an unhappy companion.

For gods sakes, she could change herself all she liked, twisted her malleable hair into the perfect ringlets that she recognized as herself, not the unruly tousle of tangled orange that danced around her face in the wind. She could change her clothes from hand me downs from the second hand store, bright colors, thin wrists colored with thread bracelets, jean skirts jean shorts the product of summer into the crisp business suits and white button downs.

She stared at herself, for the first time in so many years, looking more like the young girl with windy hair and cloudy eyes, a sea spray of freckles and lanky limbs, and not the shapely contours accented by black pencil skirts, hands poised with pens and shirt ironed.

Pepper could remember herself in high school—except for the fact that she certainly didn't want to.

There weren't many things she wanted to digress of her days as a teenager. Dazzling moments burning ephemeral like Indian summer in the back of her mind. There was nothing becoming of pimply brutes directing syrupy gazes to the hems of girl's skirts, crooning laughter and painted toe nails.

She could, however, remember her first purchase of any large sum of money.

The Honda Prelude she once owned was probably sitting in a dump somewhere, but she remembered it well.

The seats were worn leather that was always cool, even as the car baked in the Arizona sun. The air conditioner coolant was always leaking, always needing to be replaced, and for a while, the radio used to work fine as day until she accidentally snapped her antennae, and then it only got the news and a radio that only played the Chordettes.

On the back, a decorative amount of labels and stickers of the age had made their way onto the space around the license plate. Most of them something along the lines of, "Pro-Life" and clearly remembered herself as a conservative republican.

How could she convince herself that she could kill a child?

She couldn't even bring herself to open the god damn box.

It had been two days already. She knew enough from re-reading the back of the box to understand that after three days the effects would become ineffective.

"I'm so stupid."

She could have kicked herself if it wouldn't hurt so bad.

Her reflection pouted back at her, hands balled at her sides.

Actually, she could kick Tony Stark.

-x-

-x-

"She quit?"

At that very same fateful morning, one Tony Stark was blinking in a sheer vertigo which sent his already failing heart into a more fatal state , this one nearing cardiac arrest.

The new secretary narrowed his eyes. "No, sir. She's on leave."

"What?" Tony spat, looking away with a narrowed gaze. Eventually his attention was brought center to the quite buxom lady in front of him. "Did she give any reason?"

"No Mister Stark." Came the immediate reply.

After a couple moments, the blonde shifted around the papers clasped under her arms to find a small file, pulling out a couple papers with manicured hands.

"These are the official documents, if it helps. Technically her leave won't start until the next two months, but until then I'll be interning." Her perky nose shriveled as she took a look around. There was wonder in her eyes, a zealous kind that made him worried, but also bemusement as well as irritation. It may have something to do with his partially fried hair, the three quarters of his body doused in smelly car fluids, and the tattered pajama bottoms which, prior to this morning, were not-so-tattered. "To, I suppose, learn the ropes."

"Ah," He tucked the folder under his arm, smearing it in inky exhaust. "Well, then you'll have a lot to learn. First lesson," He pulled open the door as he turned around, a swagger in his walk and irritation set on his face. "Don't bother me, because I don't really care about you."

And he shut the door, the lock drilling into place as her face morphed into outright appalled embarrassment.

He quickly strode in and opened the documents.

-x-

-x-

Pepper supposed maybe she was getting ahead of herself. She counted the days of her cycle accordingly—or tried, really. She never really put much effort into remembering which days she had her period, and which days she was miraculously spotting free—and thought that, well, it was possible she _wasn't_ pregnant.

Right?

But the thought of killing something—anything, that would eventually have more mental capacity then a mosquito on her leg—made her sick, and she mused that the Plan B would continue to sit on her bathroom sink, unused.

What a waste of fifty dollars.

Either way, she hadn't taken a pregnancy test, either, so everything was up in the air, and here she was, juggling it all, indecisive to the very last.

And anyway, the aching she felt was probably the last remains of the hangover ebbing away, and she probably looked like shit because, well, she was seriously moping around her house.

Maybe hiring a replacement was a bit overboard.

Apparently Tony thought so too.

"Hello?" She answered weakly, after grabbing for her phone.

"So this blonde chick kind of freaks me out."

Pepper sighed. "Clarice Walker?"

"Yes. She's terrible. Horrendous. If you don't come back I'll fire her. And make her cry."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No." A pause. "Yes."

"Tony, "She tried to reason. "I'm coming back."

"Really?" He sounded slightly appalled, and entirely skeptical. "Funny, she said something about taking leave after two months."

"Well, yes, I mean, she's got to be _trained_, you know. Handling you is like handling a behemoth—

"Thank you, I take that as a compliment."

"And, to be honest, I've really been thinking about taking a vacation. I've been really stressed lately, my doctor says my blood pressure is—

"Bullshit. You're next doctor's appointment is next month. You haven't been to him since last year, which, if I recall, was the exact day of the ATC meeting, so, in reality maybe two years?"

"Tony." She began flatly. "Stop interrupting."

"Sorry." He didn't sound it.

"Is it so bad that I want a vacation?" At this point, she was on her feet, looking entirely miffed. At first, she had been sort of guilty for lying to him, but at this point he just frustrated her to the point she was more angry then anything. "Think about it Tony. I've never had a vacation. I think its high time I took one, you know, all my friends are out spending their twenties like they're supposed to, and I'm really starting to think that maybe I'm not where I want to be for a twenty-five year old woman—

"Is this about that family thing?" Tony butted in, _again_, exasperatedly. "I didn't think you'd get so worked up about it—

"Tony." She was seething now. "Shut. Up."

He did, miraculously.

"I want vacation. You can't stop me, so stop arguing. I'm not going to be gone for forever," (liar, again, that cynical voice inputted. You were thinking of switching to another department and you know it.) "I'll be back in, like, a month. Or something like that."

"You're sure?"

Ah, the guilt eating away at her stomach. What a lovely feeling.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay then."

And he hung up.

Maybe she should start making an actual plan.

-x-

-x-

The next week found Pepper at exactly in the same position as the last. With no answers, and no plan. Well, Plan B was out of the question. It still stood there, a waste of her money, unmoved and gathering dust on the side of her sink, next to the toothpaste. Luckily, Clarice was improving to the point that Tony didn't just flat out ignore her anymore, instead, he shucked his laundry and paperwork at her, a sure sign that the two would eventually get along.

Rhodey disagreed.

The two were at the corner café, the one that sold excellent bread and the best hot chocolate this side of LA.

"I heard you're hiring a replacement." He began tactfully, stirring his coffee.

Pepper nodded, more confused then ever. Here she sat, hair piled into a haphazard pony tail, in a comfy shirt and jeans, tattered kicks, and the only remnants of her life as Tony Stark's posh assistant were the classy sunglasses on top of her head.

"Not really. I just need someone…capable of handling Tony for a month." There was a whimsical, capricious smile quirking at her lips. The sun caught the rims of her glasses, and the stray hair falling into her eyes. "You know how he is."

"Unable to care for himself for longer then a week?" Rhodey raised his brows.

"Precisely."

"Tony likes to make things into a bigger deal then they are then, I suppose." He took a sip, before blanching. Too strong.

Pepper wondered if she should take the bait. The both of them knew that, if anything, Tony was a minimalist and liked to pretend things weren't as bad as they seem. In the end, she decided to. "Well, he might be closer then he thinks." She conceded slowly, unable to keep eye contact and instead watched the street traffic.

Rhodey looked up at her, as if that was the answer he was expecting all along.

"I'm thinking of getting a transfer."

"What happened with you two?" Came his immediate rebuke. "I mean, Tony's a handful, but you're always on top of it, Pepper. I might be prying, but, what could Tony possible have done that he hasn't already topped with something worse?"

The redhead only shrugged, rubbing tiredly at the freckles beneath her eyes.

"I suppose it's your decision." He decided upon finally with a sigh. "But I just don't want you two to end without it being for a real purpose. Call me selfish, but I don't want to deal with Tony without you Pepper. He's so reckless now, imagine him without you to knock sense into him."

Pepper smiled thinly. "Don't talk like that, Rhodey. He's got a brain, even if he doesn't really like to use it for anything but crazy super science stuff."

"I guess." The colonel grinned. "I'm just gonna miss you, Pep."

"Don't!" She grinned back. "I'm not getting wiped off of the planet or anything, I'll still be around. And anyway, nothing's set in stone yet, okay?"

She wanted to convince herself with those words, too.


End file.
